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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296954">Told You So</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye'>deltachye</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Megalo Box (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, One Shot, Possessive Behavior, Smut, a v good anime i highly enjoyed, idk clearing out the pipes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:54:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[reader x mikio shirato]</p><p>"You can say I was obsessed with a lost cause all you want, but you wouldn’t still be here in this shitty hut if you didn’t love me. We're the same."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shirato Mikio/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Told You So</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>idk if anybody else binged this but like the joe/yuri supremacy was interrupted momentarily by my half-thirst for mikio who immediately became irrelevant to pave way for joe/yuri again LOL. idk something 'bout tortured geniuses...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>The lap of a rich boy is no easy throne to sit upon.</p><p>At the time, he was more than just the pretty face for a conglomerate mega-corp. He was an elegant man. He was ambitious and passionate, intelligent beyond anything you’d seen before, and he was <em>bright</em>. Of course you were attracted to that. Still, it should’ve been no surprise that he’d burn out.</p><p>You’d begged him. First as the concerned colleague, then the foolish mistress who’d gone and fallen in love. You cast aside the shredded remnants of pride you had and clung to his coattails. He was going to run himself into the ground. <em>‘If not for you, then for me,’</em> you’d cried, like it’d mean a damn thing to somebody like Mikio Shirato. In the end, he cast you out for disturbing his work, and you were alone.</p><p>You should’ve moved on. Your talents could be better served elsewhere, your love better returned with another man—but you’re nothing but a hypocrite.</p><p>“I’m back.”</p><p>It seems too casual of a reunion; you shivering in the doorway of a shoddy cabin, him smiling wearily with his hands tucked in his pockets. You hadn’t seen him since he had screamed at you to leave, convulsing on the floor of his lab. True to your word, you had never gone back. He had at least felt bad about it later on since he’d technically fired you without compensation. Mikio wired funds into your account and left you an address in the middle of nowhere. It was like insurance for him to know where you’d be. He didn’t have the guts to apologize but had the audacity to shelter you away like an obedient lapdog? Regardless, you didn’t have to go. For whatever reason, you did. Even though you’d told yourself day after day that he wouldn’t be back for you, you waited anyways. It’s sick and twisted and it eats at your dignity, but seeing him again makes it all okay somehow.</p><p>“Hey—come, now. Don’t be shy.” Mikio winces as he pulls his foot back from the door, having foiled your plan to shut it on his face. You hug yourself as he waltzes into the house, looking around appreciatively. “You fixed this place up well.”</p><p>“No thanks to you.” You can’t help the bitterness. Mikio dumped you like trash and now he’s sauntering back like nothing ever happened. He stops in front of you and you glower down at his shined loafers.</p><p>“All right, I’ll cut to the chase. I owe you an apology. You get to say, ‘I told you so’.”</p><p>The mirth from his tone drops coldly. You spare him a glance and see his eyes misting over as he gets distracted with thought. You’ve seen this expression a million times before; when Mikio works, he throws himself into it. He’s a perfectionist in everything he does. He loses sight, and he loses himself. <em>You</em> lose him. It’s why you hate him, but it’s also why you love him.</p><p>“I told you so.”</p><p>“There, see? Now, can’t we get to forgiveness?”</p><p>You slap his hand away as he reaches out for your face. Your cheeks are burning and there’s tears prickling at the backs of your eyeballs.</p><p>“You want me to just forgive you after all you did?”</p><p>“Yes. Didn’t you say it yourself? I always get what I want.”</p><p>He’s fast—obviously, since he’s still one of the nation’s top Megaloboxers—and he snatches your wrists in his hands without you even knowing. Using his tall frame, he walks you backwards until you run into the kitchen counter. Your breath hitches in your throat. There’s a sense of urgency and danger that makes your heart drop when you look into his deep brown eyes. You’re trapped.</p><p>“You were right all along. But look at you, waiting here for me like such a good girl. You can say I was obsessed with a lost cause all you want, but you wouldn’t still be here in this shitty hut if you didn’t love me.</p><p>We’re the same.”</p><p>You wince at the words in his mouth. It’s like a slap to the face because he’s <em>right</em>. He grins, teeth perfectly aligned despite all the blows he must’ve taken.</p><p>“That’s why you’re my woman, [Name].”</p><p>He kisses you after saying his piece. You don’t remember a specific moment, but during work or play you’d always complain to him about his brat complex. <em>You won’t always get your way</em>, you’d chide. You thought he’d learnt his lesson after seeing the news about the final Megalonia contestant. But with his tongue down your throat and his hands squeezing you to him so hard it hurts, it doesn’t feel like he’s humbled himself at all.</p><p>He pulls away and your head drops forwards instinctively to follow. A string of spit breaks between the two of you. You don’t know how he does it. He’s basically holding you up because you’ve lost strength in your legs, panting hard, lips throbbing and raw. You stare up at him blankly, struggling to recollect yourself. He swipes his thumb over your bottom lip.</p><p>“Look at this face,” he murmurs wondrously, almost to himself. “You missed me this much?”</p><p>You nod before you can stop yourself. Your hands unfurl around his sweater after you realize you’ve been latched onto him for dear life. He smirks and with a jolt you feel him push his thumb into your mouth, so roughly you almost gag on it.</p><p>“You better not have been seeing other men. <em>I’m</em> the one this face belongs to.”</p><p>You whine around his finger and shake your head. Who else would it be in the middle of the goddamn woods? But you’ve lost your ability to be a smartass. The desperation in your eyes should be enough truth for him. He smiles—it’s so handsome and sweet that for a second you forget that he’s shoved his hands into your mouth and admire him. He pulls his digit back and rewards you with a sweet kiss that doesn’t bring tears to your eyes. His lips dance across yours like gossamer, a stark contrast to the beast that’d decimated you only moments ago.</p><p>“I missed you too.”</p><p>His hands: the deft, precise ones of a genius engineer, make quick work of your top and jeans. You yelp when he lifts you up around the hips and harshly deposits you onto the counter.</p><p>“The bedroom’s right there!” you complain shrilly, balancing yourself on the cold laminate by grabbing his shoulders. You’re still barely taller than him, even seated up here, and so you’re forced to witness his simpering at eye level.</p><p>“You’re seriously going to make me wait after I’ve been deprived for this long? No way.”</p><p>He takes a step back to unbuckle his belt. The cabin’s not exactly a paradise and you’re freezing in the draft. You reach forwards impatiently and tug at his sweater, only to pause after seeing his chest. You understand why he was resisting you.</p><p>The cuts that his gear left on him are still red and angry, criss-crossing his skin like brands. Deep purple bruises, yellows, and greens no human should be able to produce mar his abdomen. You ghost your fingers over his wounds, feeling him flinch away from your touch.</p><p>“Is it ugly?” he breathes, and there he is. It’s the vulnerable version of him, the one you secure to your chest as he weeps, the one who curls his fingers in your hair and lathers the ends with adoring kisses.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>You carefully wrap your legs around his waist as he steps back towards you. His body radiates a heat you melt into gladly. It’s nice to be held again, and to hold. You almost say ‘I love you’ before he presses himself inside of you without warning.</p><p>Your body’s tense and you nearly fight him off, but he hushes you with a whisper. Your heart roars in your ears, deafening. His large hands grip you around your thighs. The shock fades into a deep pressure that’s on the cusp of pleasure-pain. You close your eyes and breathe shakily.</p><p>“You feel so good,” he moans into your ear, rocking back and forth. “Babygirl, say you’re mine.”</p><p>“Mm—” He juts into you so hard you lose your words. “I-I’m yours.”</p><p>“Yes,” he growls delightedly. “You’re my dirty little slut, making filthy whore noises on my cock. I bet you touched yourself, wanting me. Go on. Tell me how much you wanted me to fuck you.”</p><p>It’s belittling, you know. Humiliating. You almost feel like you should be apologizing to your ancestors up in heaven. But even though Mikio lost to Gearless Joe fair and square, he’s still got that Shirato blood flowing through his veins, and he’s a goddamn control freak with a sore loser complex. You figure it’s okay to let him have his way this once.</p><p>“I want you to fuck me.”</p><p>“Then beg for me.” His teeth sink into your neck and you groan, hugging his head close. His black curls are thick and soft between your fingers.</p><p>“Please, Mikio,” you mewl obediently. “I want you to fuck me.”</p><p>“Mm.” He staggers to find stronger footing and you gasp when he ruts into you so powerfully you almost get knocked backwards. Mikio’s a scientist with intellect you’ve always respected, but he’s also an athlete, and you’re not sure if your body can take him when he’s like this.</p><p>“I want you to cum in me,” you all but squeal, feeling your own orgasm bud in the guts he’s masterfully re-arranging. “P-please, Mikio, I can’t—” Your voice jitters as he pounds you hard into the counter. You don’t have enough time to finish the sentiment when your eyes roll back into your skull. You haven’t had a satisfying orgasm in the <em>months</em> you’ve been apart from him. Back then, he was too distracted on his gear project to even screw you properly, and it was <em>still</em> enough to have you bending over backwards. Now that his attention is fully on you…</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>!” you shriek, and for once you’re happy to be living in this shithole of a hut. The birds probably aren’t happy to be disturbed, but it’s vengeance for those five AM wake-up calls. You’re shredding new cuts into Mikio’s shoulders but bearing down on anything worldly is the only way you can hang onto your sanity. It’s like you’re having a seizure as your entire body convulses on him. “Fuck, fuck, <em>fuck</em>—!”</p><p>You can’t tell when he finished. When you float back to yourself the both of you are panting hard, heads bowed together. It’s him that moves first, picking his own sweater up off the ground and pulling it over your head. It smells of him. Wordlessly, he makes sure you’re snug before sweeping his arm under your knees, cradling you securely into his chest.</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>“To the bedroom. I’m not a monster.”</p><p>You open and close your mouth, defiance in your glare as he snickers down at you boyishly. Your face softens. When he’s making a face like that, you can’t be mad.</p><p>“Did I say I told you so?” you ask sleepily after he lays you down in the bed. You’ve been alone for so long in it that it feels strange to have another warm body draped over you.</p><p>“Yes, you did.”</p><p>“I just wanted to make sure you knew. Look at you, crawling back to me.”</p><p>He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek and you gladly leant into it. “Yes, ma’am. You were right. I’m gonna take it easy from now on.”</p><p>That gets your attention and you force your eyes back open. “You’re serious? What about the Shirato Group?”</p><p>“My darling little sister has shown me up.” He shrugs, though for once, he looks unbothered. “That life just isn’t meant for me. I tried, and the universe said no.”</p><p>“So you’re saying…”</p><p>“I guess some quiet time with the woman I love is all I need. What do you say?” He wrapped a strand of your hair around his finger, kissing it while looking you in the eye. You grinned sleepily, allowing your own to shut.</p><p>“You’re a jerk, Mikio,” you mumble affectionately. He laughs, tucking you close to his body.</p><p>“And you love me still.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>deltachye.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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